Come Home
by galleywinter
Summary: He hasn't seen her since Horizon. But then comes one night of stress, too much liquor, and the realization that maybe all it takes to begin mending things is a call he wouldn't have ever made sober. After the destruction of the Collector Base, Shepard and Kaidan have an opportunity to reunite on the Citadel. Slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

This does make some minor reference to my previous piece We Never Change. You won't be lost if you haven't read it, but it might help. Also, I'm rating this T for now, just to be safe, though the rating may bump up with later chapter(s).

And, as always: This is Bioware's sandbox; I'm just playing in it.

* * *

Kaidan slumped back against the wall next to his door and slowly let it bear his weight to the floor. Slowly was good. Slowly meant less headswimming. When he finally ended in a graceless heap with his legs sprawled out in front of him, he took a slow, deep breath and let his head fall back against the wall. His head lolled in the direction of his bed. His bed was still so far away and this particular spot of floor felt pretty good right now. And this particular wall was nice and supportive enough to sleep against.

Headlights raced by outside his window, and he winced at the sudden brightness. The glare reflected off the glass of the old-fashioned picture frame he kept next to his bed, sparkling straight into his eyes with little pinpricks of light that sent small spots of color exploding across his vision long after the car had passed by.

He frowned at his bedside table. Shepard. This was all her fault. Really. If she'd just actually replied to his e-mail instead of sending her version of a care package, if she'd just _told_ him that her idea of "fighting to save" him involved _another_ suicide mission, if she'd just _talked_ to him, then maybe this would have been easier to handle, to wrap his head around. If she'd _told_ him about the Omega-4 instead of letting him find out through back channels, he might not have needed to go out and get himself good and hammered after he'd run out of actual productive things to do that kept his mind off of _her_ and where she was and if she was ever coming back and who was watching her six if he wasn't and could he trust whoever it was to do it as well as he would have.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't like he'd _intended_ to get drunk. Not really. He had just meant to have a drink or two, be in a place that was just loud enough to drown out the concern, the _fear_, that was eating at him but not loud enough to trigger a migraine. And then one drink had turned to two, had turned to three, and kept going until the turian behind the bar had actually cut him off. After he couldn't even walk to the door of the bar without running into two tables and a patron he could have _sworn_ had materialized directly from the floor to trip him on purpose, he'd been forced to call Vasquez and Edelbrecht to get him home.

Thankfully they'd known him long enough that, while he was pretty damned sure they were shocked to see him _drunk_, they wouldn't hold it against him in the morning. He thought.

Another car zipped by and the glare off the picture frame seemed even brighter this time. Apparently sleeping against this wall wasn't going to work after all.

Kaidan sucked in a breath and braced his palms flat against the wall next to his hips and slowly pushed himself back to his feet. The walk to his bed took longer than it really should have and he nearly fell flat on his face twice, but he did manage it, hauling one knee up onto the mattress and then tipping forward and trying to avoid falling _too_ quickly because his room was still spinning around him and that just wasn't _fair_. His room was a filthy cheater. Kaidan caught himself on his hands and let his head hang forward because it was too heavy to really hold upright anymore. He sank down to his elbows and then pushed himself over onto his back. His stomach roiled, deciding it really didn't like this position too much, and so he kicked back onto his side, somehow flopping even further over than he'd intended and laying with his face pressed into his pillow. Despite the fact that he was very nearly _laying_ on his stomach, the nausea eased. Much better.

A third car raced by and this time, from this angle, the reflection wasn't so bad. A fourth followed immediately afterward, and Kaidan grunted into his pillow. His room was a filthy cheater and all those cars were aiding and abetting it. Normally he would have closed the curtains by now so he could get some decent sleep, but the window was all the way over _there_ and if he closed his eyes his head didn't swim _quite_ so badly and he could actually ignore the feeling of the floor spinning independently underneath him.

Another car went by and this time there was a _horn_. Inconsiderate bastards. Some people were trying to sleep off a long, hard night of worrying about their girlfriends' lives thankyouverymuch, and it was damned near impossible to actually sleep with all those lights and all that _noise_. Kaidan opened his eyes just a crack and glanced at the drawing on his bedside table. Or tried to. It wasn't holding still enough for him to really look at - it was wavering like he was looking at it from underwater and if vision could actually be _thick_, this certainly was. He heard a funny little whimpering noise and realized a very hazy, disconnected moment later that he'd been the one to make it. Her leaving him like this _again_ just wasn't fair.

Before he could really make a conscious decision about it, Kaidan had activated his omni-tool and his fingers were fumbling at the display, trying to initiate the comm protocols. Even through the drunken fog, he knew it was a mostly fruitless endeavor: there was no way she would answer his call. She was still on the other side of the Omega-4. Or dead. His stomach lurched again. No. Not dead. Not again. He just needed to hear her voice. Just for the few seconds it would take to listen to the all-too brief recording that said she wasn't taking calls at present and please leave a message.

The comm protocols finally flashed to life, and he only had to punch two more buttons, her personal number still the first one on his speed dial even after everything, even after all this time, even though he hadn't called it just to hear her voice in almost a year. He punched those two buttons and watched the lights blink across his omni-tool as the comm protocols on his tool tried to connect with hers. After a few moments of silence, her voice washed over him for the first time since Horizon.

"This is Amanda Shepard. Sorry I can't take your call at the moment, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

The indicator to leave a message beeped and he terminated the call and immediately called back. The lights blinked again, and then silence, and then her voice again. He called back a third time, watched the lights blink in their pretty little sequence, breathed through the silence, and then very nearly tumbled off his bed.

"What?" Shepard snapped across the comm, her voice thick. Oh dear God it was _actually her_. "Whoever you are, this had better be important."

"Shepard?" It came out as little more than a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Shepard?" Silence was the only response. Kaidan frowned. His omni-tool had apparently taken to conspiring with his room in the "filthy cheater" category. Either that or his brain had. He reached up and rubbed at his amp with two fingers. He didn't like the implications of that one, come to think of it.

"Kaidan?" Her voice was clearer, softer, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the sound.

"Hey, 'Manda," he grinned, burrowing into his pillow.

"'Manda'? Kaidan, what are you - Why are you-"

"You're kind of cute when you don't know what to say. I ever tell you that?" He swallowed a hiccup before continuing. "I should have. There's a lot I should've said, you know."

"You're drunk," Shepard said, sounding a little incredulous, and it was so obviously not a question that he wanted to laugh in response. It came out like a snort.

"'S your fault. Why didn't you call me? And don't try that 'I was dead' thing again. Only works once. Especially when you're not dead." Realization dawned slowly through the fog of alcohol, and he paused, opening his eyes to frown at the drawing of her he kept next to his bed. "Why didn't you call me when you got back, either?" Some sort of soft rustling noise came over the comm link. His heart thudded double time in his ears. "Amanda?"

"I'm still here, Kaidan," Shepard said gently. "I'm just getting out of bed."

"You were in bed?" The thought that she'd been lying in bed, remembering how soft and gentle she looked when she slept, sent a flush of warmth through him.

"Blowing up the Collectors' base and making a supposedly impossible relay jump not once but twice does tend to take a lot out of a girl." Kaidan could hear the smile in her voice, and a noise of appreciation rumbled in his chest. She was always so pretty when she smiled. Well, she was pretty all the time. But she was _really_ pretty when she smiled. "Not to mention telling your terrorist boss to take a long walk out of a short airlock. And stealing his very fancy, very _expensive_ ship right out from under his nose while you're at it."

"Been a little busy, then," he murmured into his sheets, his head pleasantly warm and fuzzy as he laid there and enjoyed just _listening_ to her.

"Just a little," she said with a gentle, easy chuckle. "But somewhere between telling my boss off and stealing his ship, I did try to call you."

Kaidan scowled at his drawing of Shepard. He wasn't so drunk that he would have forgotten something like that. He'd been waiting for a call from her for _weeks_. "You did?"

"Mm-hm. When you didn't accept the comm-link, I sent you an e-mail and decided to get some sleep. I just assumed you were on an assignment or something." Kaidan poked at his omni-tool's interface, being deliberately slow and careful so that he didn't accidentally terminate the call. He called up his e-mail program and...oh. There it was. He tried to focus on the too-tiny print, accidentally crossing his eyes in the process. He screwed his eyes shut and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids. He opened his eyes and tried to read the timestamp a second time and finally succeeded. She'd sent the e-mail when he'd been approximately four drinks in. He thought. Might have been six. He couldn't be certain, and they'd all sort of blended together after the third anyway. But it had definitely pinged in when he'd been at the bar.

"Kaidan?" Shepard sounded worried. Kaidan cringed. He hated making her sound that way.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I'm here. Sorry. Was just," he sucked in a breath, trying to alleviate the pressure building in his chest, "looking at something."

"By 'something' you mean your e-mail, don't you?"

"No," he said immediately, hotly, before his room spun precariously again and he was forced to screw his eyes shut and press his face into the pillow to shut it out.

"No?"

"Yes," he admitted into his pillow.

"Sorry, Kaidan. Having a little trouble hearing you." He could _hear_ her grinning again. His heart stuttered out a funny little rhythm in response and the pleasant fuzz enveloped his thoughts again. Kaidan wasn't _quite_ ready to declare her in cahoots with his room and the cars and his omni-tool, but he was close. It was still patently Not Fair, though. "It's coming through a bit muffled on this end."

"Yes," he muttered as he rolled over onto his back. His stomach roiled again in protest, but he didn't care.

"Hey, Kaidan?" And her voice was all sweet and soft and low and tender and just a little bit husky and just like it used to be on those stolen nights in her bunk, when she would curl up next to him, both of them sweat-slick and sated and _content_, and they would talk, her head on his chest and her fingers splayed across his ribs and his hand sliding down her back, just enjoying the _feel _of each other. He closed his eyes and savored that sound.

"Hm."

"Did you read it?"

"Read what?"

"The e-mail I sent you."

"Oh. No," he admitted. "I'm a little," he hiccupped once, swallowed a second, "little too drunk for that right now."

Shepard chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made everything, just for a moment, feel _right_. "I should have guessed that," she said, and that _warmth_ was still in her voice, spreading through him faster than any whiskey ever had.

"Yeah," he agreed, grinning, "you prob'ly should have."

Shepard only gave an amused-sounding little hum in response.

The silence stretched after that, and he almost nodded off, content to imagine her just sitting there enjoying the silence with him. He wondered what she looked like now. In the sleep-haze that settled over him, Shepard looked like she had on the SR1 - decked out in her soft Alliance blue running shorts and a little black N7 tank. The image wavered and shifted and she was wearing one of his shirts instead.

"What're you wearing?" Kaidan heard himself ask, and he could feel the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What am I _wearing_? Are you trying to - I mean - _Really_, Kaidan?" And his grin twisted into a full-fledged scowl. Did she _really_ think he would try that? _Now_? Where would she even get that - oh.

"No. No I'm not. I just..." He licked his lips and rubbed a hand across his throbbing forehead, looking for the right words, because it _wasn't_ like that. "Just wanna know what you look like right now."

"What I look like?" Shepard repeated, and she didn't sound _annoyed_ anymore, and that loosened the knot in his gut a fraction. "A little worse for wear. But," she said, her voice low and throaty and taking on that husky, conspiratorial tone again, "the tank top and running shorts I have on are practically new, so I'd say I come out looking 'passable'."

That made him grin. _That_ was his girl. "Where are you? When're you coming _home_?" The words had tumbled out before he could stop them, and he cursed himself. "The _Citadel_," he corrected, screwing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. "When're you coming back to the Citadel?"

"I'll, uh, I'll actually be there in roughly - Oh damn it," she muttered, "I've got no idea what time it is. Edie," she said, a bit louder, and Kaidan frowned, even as her increase in volume made him wince. Edie? Who the hell was _Edie_? "how long before we reach the Citadel?"

"We will reach the Citadel in approximately fifteen hours, twelve minutes, Shepard," a second, smooth female voice came over the comm-link. His stomach pitted out and roiled all at the same time. He gulped in a breath and held it, trying to swallow back the bile. Shepard had been in bed and she wasn't alone.

"Sorry, Shepard," Kaidan managed to spit out, thick though it might have been. He fumbled at his omni-tool's interface, hoping he could work the functions to terminate the call quickly enough. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Kaidan-" Shepard started.

"I'll let you go." Kaidan jabbed at his interface.

"Kaidan," Shepard repeated. She was still on the line? _What_ in the - _how_was she - he wasn't so drunk that he had missed the button completely, he knew that much. He'd hit _something_. He stared at his interface, trying to figure out what he'd actually done. And promptly flopped his forearm over his eyes. All he'd done was close his e-mail inbox. Stupid e-mail program subroutine. Stupid Shepard telling him she'd sent him an e-mail he hadn't seen. Stupid _Kaidan_, while he was at it, forgetting to close out of the program once he'd seen the e-mail in his inbox.

"Yes, Shepard?" he said slowly, deliberately, trying to keep his voice absolutely neutral.

"You aren't interrupting." And his heart did that little stuttering rhythm thing again, and his stomach did that pitting-flippy thing again and that was it. She was _definitely_ conspiring with his room and the cars that were _still_ zipping by outside his window and his omni-tool.

"But-"

"I'm alone. It's just - It's complicated." He frowned at that, opening his mouth to speak, but Shepard rushed on before he could, "It's not what you think. That was my ship."

"You mean a VI?"

"You could say that," she answered. A dodge? From _her_? He took a breath, intending to call her on it, but nearly belched instead. "Look," she continued on, "I'll be there in fifteen hours, give or take. I'd really like to see you, if you feel up to it by then."

His stomach flipped.

"I'd really like that," he responded, and he i_knew_ he was grinning like a fool, but he didn't care.

"Okay," Shepard breathed, and he was pretty damn sure she was smiling, too. "I'll message you when we get docking clearance, tell you what bay they send us to."

He flopped back over onto his stomach and dropped his wrist onto the pillow right next to his mouth.

"Sounds good," he said. "I'll be waiting for it."

She made one of those happy little humming, purring-type noises. "I'll try not to keep you waiting too long."


	2. Chapter 2

I can't say thank you enough to everyone who reviewed and everyone else who put this on alerts and favorites. I was completely floored and I am so very grateful. Thank you all so very much.

* * *

Shepard had kept her word - when he'd woken up to his brain feeling like it was pressing against the inside of his skull and a tongue as useful as a wad of cotton, there had been a new message buzzing on his omni-tool: Bay E-15, she'd said.

He made sure he was waiting there, when the Normandy limped into the docking bay. She looked like hell. The kinetic barriers shimmered where they covered missing chunks of her hull, and she had battle scars, _gouges,_ stretching from bow to stern. He knew Shepard was alive. But the sight of Shepard's ship battered and _broken_ took him straight back to Alchera. He shoved off the railing, his breath catching in his throat and his heart beating in the back of his mouth.

The docking clamps extended, securing the Normandy to the bay. It would have been _so easy_ to pull strings, to use his rank and his status to force his way aboard. She was still listed as a Cerberus vessel, after all. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted _her_, he wasn't sure where everything stood. Where _they_ stood. Two years ago, when certain death had loomed and snapped everything into crystal clear focus, he'd come to her. This time, she needed to come to him. This needed to be on _her_ terms. For both their sakes.

He watched the ship settle, watched the decon scan sweep over her hull. He knew they were going through clearance protocols, knew Shepard was probably trying to secure a small team of engineers and mechanics, but his pulse thundered in his ears for what felt like interminable minutes as he stood there waiting for the airlock to open. Waiting to be able to see her.

It was the hydraulics that warned him first - a distant hiss that heralded the inner airlock was opening, and his stomach dropped to his feet. His palms started to sweat. He couldn't do this.

He couldn't do anything _but_ this.

The lock on the outer door flared a brilliant green, and his heart stopped. The door shuddered, the joints separating as it began to cycle open.

And then she was there. Standing in the doorway with a seabag slung over her right shoulder, and her left arm held at an angle in front of her, her omni-tool suffusing her face with an orange glow. She was obviously on a call - he could see her lips moving as her gaze swept across the dock. When she finally saw him, when their eyes locked, her whole face lit up. It was more than he could have hoped for. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

She wove her way toward him, working her way around dock officials and civilians, never taking her eyes from his. She ended her call halfway across the dock, stopped to sign a model Normandy for a kid three-quarters of the way, and then finally she was there - whole, safe, sound, right in front of him. His fingers curled into his palms as he fought the urge to reach out and pull her into his arms.

"Hi," she grinned up at him, her voice soft, her eyes warm. She was so close he could smell the mint of her toothpaste on her breath. She was close enough that he could hear her omni-tool vibrating against her skin as he opened his mouth to tell her hello. A flush crept across her cheeks as she glanced down at her wrist. "Sorry," she murmured, looking back up at him sheepishly. "It's my mother. Again. I need-" He grinned at her, finally reaching out and touching her, wrapping his fingers gently around her elbow.

They both jumped at the firm crack of static as his fingers brushed against her skin. He grimaced, kicking himself for forgetting to discharge against the rail, and tried to jerk his fingers away. Shepard stopped him. Her bag thumped to the ground between them as her hand shot out, grasping his and lacing their fingers together with a brief squeeze. And then her hand fell away, going to her left wrist as her omni-tool flared to life.

As she angled her torso away just slightly, Kaidan took the opportunity to just watch her, to soak her in. The first thing he noticed were the bruises - he winced at the sight of the dark splotches against her pale skin, and they made him ache to soothe his fingers across them, to reassure himself, to comfort her - one creeping around the curve of her neck down to her collarbone, one barely visible on her left forearm underneath the glow of her omni-tool. From the look of them, there would be more he couldn't see, hidden under her clothing. He wondered how far they stretched, wondered if there were bruises spanning the plane of her stomach, how many mottled the creamy skin of her thighs. He cursed himself as unbidden memories of exploring every inch of that skin swam to the forefront and his pants began to grow tight. He immediately tamped down on that very unhelpful line of thought.

The second thing he noticed, as she was ending the call and turning back to him, was that her own face was splashed across her t-shirt. It only took him a moment to recognize it as the picture Conrad Verner had taken of her three years ago.

"That's quite the shirt, Shepard," he said, feeling his cheeks burn as he tried to bite back a smile.

"Yeah," she agreed with a self-deprecating grin and a huffed chuckle, "it is. I didn't own any," she paused and her lips went slightly thin and her brow furrowed for the briefest of moments, "_appropriate_ civs. I'd hoped to be able to buy a decent shirt and have it sent aboard before disembarking. But I think Joker intercepted my req form because this," she plucked at the stomach of her shirt, the holo of her own face distorting around her fingers before resolving into a proper image again as she let go, "was what I found in my quarters."

"Joker?" Kaidan asked dubiously as Shepard stooped to retrieve her bag. "With that shirt? I think I'm missing a piece of the story here."

"I ran into Conrad Verner on Illium," Shepard said as she stood and bumped her shoulder gently against his side, a conspiratorial grin curving the corner of her mouth and sending warmth rocketing through the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help but smile back, even as he fought the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side. Even as his lips twitched with the effort not to press a quick kiss to her temple.

"Conrad Verner?" he said instead, nearly tripping over his own feet when the backs of Shepard's fingers brushed against his hand as they began making their way to the elevator.

"Conrad Verner," she laughed, nodding. "He was wearing a set of replica N7 armor and telling everyone he was my 'second-in-command' during the hunt for Saren." Her fingers brushed against his hand again, and Kaidan's skin damn near _tingled _from the contact. He wanted to reach over, to grasp her hand firmly, to see if her fingers still fit as perfectly between his as he remembered.

Instead he contented himself with the brush of her skin against his, praying it wasn't accidental and trying to convince himself it was. "N7 armor?" he asked, hoping the tightness he felt in his chest every time her fingers grazed his knuckles wasn't evident in his voice.

"Mm-hm," she answered, grinning up at him side-long from under her eyelashes. "And a good-looking set, too. He said his wife bought him a ticket off-planet."

Kaidan chuckled, his heart hammering against his ribs as Shepard's knuckles brushed against him again. "Can't say I blame her."

Shepard gave an amused hum in response. "I'm not sure I do, either," she said, and then her fingers were genuinely _stroking_ against the back of his hand, her touch feather-light. Hesitant. Kaidan nearly stopped in his tracks. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _think_. And by the time he'd gathered his wits enough to try to reach out, to slip his hand around hers, her hand was gone again. "He did mention, though," Shepard continued as if nothing had happened, her tone still light and amused, "that his armor was expensive. Joker did a little extranet searching afterward and found a site where these lovely shirts were being sold. And, of course, he _had _to buy one. I think the excuse he gave on the expense report was something about 'requiring material through which he could better obtain an understanding of his commander and her person so that his loyalty might be fully developed and cemented'."

"Sounds like Joker," he agreed, and this time he reached out, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. If he hadn't been watching her face so closely out of the corner of his eye, he would have missed it - as his thumb ran over her skin, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her chest rose on a sharp inhale, and then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. But it still seemed to embolden her; the next step they took, her fingers stroked at the back of his hand again, lingering before falling away.

When she touched him again, he steeled himself and turned his hand over, slipping his hand around hers. They had stopped, were standing still in the middle of the dock, people pouring around them like they were stones in the middle of a river. But it didn't matter. His chest was too tight and his pulse was thundering in his ears as skin rasped softly against skin, as he slowly twined his fingers through hers and he felt the warmth and pressure of her small fingers curl and flex against the back of his hand before gently squeezing and then settling between his knuckles. Kaidan ran his thumb over the back of her hand, relishing the feel of even this little bit of her skin under his touch.

"Hi," Shepard breathed when he finally dared to look up at her. Her eyes were overbright and a hesitant grin curved the line of her mouth.

"Hi," he responded, more a movement of his lips than actual sound. He wanted to reach out and slide his fingers over her jaw, to drag her in for a kiss, to taste her on his tongue. "Have dinner with me?" he said. The words had come unbidden, surprising even himself, but he didn't care, wouldn't have taken them back even if he could.

Shepard stood there, her eyes searching his face, and a knot of tension roiled and tightened in his gut as he started to wonder if maybe he'd been too bold, pushed too far, hoped too much, but then her grin broke into a full smile and he felt like he could really, truly breathe again.

"I'd love to," she said softly, squeezing his hand again. "Just, does it have to be right this second? I'd like some time to buy something decent to wear first."

Kaidan couldn't help but chuckle at the blush blooming across her cheeks, at the self-conscious tilt of her head and the set of her jaw. He did reach out to her, cupping that stubborn jaw in his palm and tracing his thumb over her cheekbone. Her lips parted slightly as his fingers brushed over her skin, and she turned into his touch, her eyes closing for the briefest of moments and making her eyelashes flutter against his thumb.

"If I pick you up at 1900," he asked, his voice sounding thick and slightly choked even to his own ears, "will that be enough time?"

Shepard opened her eyes and offered him a slow smile, her cheek still nuzzled into his palm. "Yeah," she answered, her voice just as rough as his had been. "1900 would be perfect."


End file.
